


Chasing the Nightmares Away

by Growliere



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-02-26 23:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2670122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Growliere/pseuds/Growliere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Rocket's nightmares wake the team up for the millionth time, the team attempts to help him cope. In doing so, Rocket and Gamora become closer than either of them ever expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sleep Therapy

Gamora lay in her bed within her quarters on the Milano, tossing and turning, unable to rest. Sleep never came easily to her, even in a relatively safe environment like their ship. Being asleep made her feel vulnerable. As the most dangerous woman in the galaxy, she couldn't afford to be vulnerable. But now there was no significant worry of an ambush, her tiredness the only enemy. Not even nightmares plagued her. They would almost be welcome compared to this infuriating consciousness that kept her awake. She forced her eyes open and squinted into the darkness. The dull illumination of the clock indicated that it was the middle of the night. Turning her body away from the clock, she closed her eyes once more.

Her eyes opened again as she heard an indistinct noise other than the low hum of the Milano's engines. Sitting up, she listened, waited. The sound became louder and clearer. It was someone talking, definitely Rocket's voice, but she couldn't make out the words. He sounded distressed and began shouting. Gamora bolted out of her room and ran to the raccoon's (and the tree's) door. It was locked, of course, so she pounded on it several times.

“Rocket, what's wrong?” she asked loud enough to be heard through the door. And likely the walls too. There was no response, but the screaming ceased.

Peter drowsily emerged from his room, rubbing his eyes. “'Mora, what's going on? What time is it?”

“It's Rocket, he's been yelling,” the assassin explained as she brushed her loose hair out of her face, tucking the strands behind her ear.

“I bet you 50 units he's having a nightmare. Again. Or are they night terrors? I always get those confused.” The Terran looked downward and let out an exhausted sigh. “I'm going back to bed, get me up if there's actual danger. Night.” He turned around and returned to his quarters.

Gamora heard Groot's voice before Rocket's door opened from within. The Flora Colossus, at approximately four feet tall and wearing a concerned expression, was on the other side. Groot pressed a button on the wall and the lights flickered on. She saw Rocket, sitting up in his bed and clutching one of his unfeasibly large guns. The small cyborg was breathing heavily, the fur on his head glistening with sweat as his eyes darted around the room.

“I am _Groot_ ,” the tree said in a reassuring tone.

The raccoon's breathing became less erratic as he focused on Groot.

The woman walked further into the room once the smaller cyborg was calm. “Can we talk about this?” She tried to ask gently, but it sounded more demanding than she intended.

“No,” Rocket muttered. His voice was quiet and rough.

Gamora folded her arms and gave him a stern glare. “It's the nightmares again, isn't it.” She cut right to the chase.

Rocket looked downward, avoiding eye contact. He gently dropped the gun onto the bed in front of him, slumping his shoulders forward. “I know, I get it. But it's not like the rest of you are krutacking easy to live with either. I'll soundproof the walls.” Rocket lay back down on his side, hugging the gun again. Groot walked to the bed, pulled the covers over his friend, and sat beside the bed.

“That may not be the best solution. What if there really had been an intruder?”

“Well, I'm gonna try to get some sleep.” Rocket's eyes clamped shut.

“I am Groot,” the tree said softly as he waved at the assassin.

Gamora turned the lights out and went back to bed.

* * *

The following day, Rocket was led by Gamora into her room, her sanctuary that he never expected to witness. It was tidy with minimal decoration. The only personal touches were a collection of swords on the wall, dark blue sheets on the bed, and a few trinkets resting on top of a cabinet.

“Recently I have been doing aromatherapy,” the woman said as she moved towards her dresser.

Rocket raised an eyebrow in confusion “Smelling junk is supposed to stop my bad dreams? Are you loonier than a Hox?”

“It won't stop your nightmares, but it will help you relax.” Gamora pulled a purple scent stick from her drawer and rested it on a base. It filled the room with a thick, flowery odor that got caught in Rocket's throat. He coughed a few times, hard enough to shake his small frame. The woman quickly removed the scent and briefly opened the door to air out the room. “The fragrance can be overpowering at first, I'll use a less potent one.” After replacing the stick with a white one, the smell it evoked was clean and crisp. She sat down on the side of her bed and patted next to her, beckoning him to sit by her.

“I don't see the point, I am relaxed.” He lied. It was no secret that Rocket was almost constantly on-edge, but he didn't like people thinking that. What he usually did to relax was build, unbuild, and rebuild his weapons. But that was less 'relaxation' and more of a pleasant distraction.

“Of course,” she said, dripping with sarcasm, while rolling her eyes. “I am going to massage your shoulders now.” His body stiffened at her touch; he let out a sharp breath he didn't realize he was holding. It was obvious that they could both feel the tension in his muscles as she kneaded her hands near his joints.

After a few minutes, Gamora removed her hands. She gestured with her arm, miming a petting motion. “May I?” A small smile formed on her face.

Rocket hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, but if-”

“If I tell anyone, you'll bite my fingers off, I know,” she interrupted. “I accept your terms.”

Being petted was demeaning, but das't did it feel good. He scooted into her lap and leaned back into her. As she softly stroked the fur on his head, a purring noise emanated from his body. “D-did ya hear that? Must be one of the engines, I should check it.”

“That noise isn't the engine,” Gamora pointed out flatly.

Rocket allowed her to pet him for a few minutes in comfortable silence, until he felt the need to shatter it. “Do you get them too? Bad dreams, I mean.”

The other cyborg stopped touching him. “Sometimes. Not as often as you do.” Gamora paused as if she were hesitant. “Rocket, now that you are relaxed, I want you to think about the dream, and change it in any way you wish.”

All kinds of outlandish scenarios popped into his mind. It started as it always did, but being awake and merely thinking about it, he was completely in control. Anything could happen. The scientists could all turn into exotic strippers, or even piles of unit strips. Or he could blow the place up with an infinite number of plasma bombs. His restraints could become food and he would eat his way out. He was omnipotent.

“Think of these alternate dreams right before you go to bed tonight,” she instructed.

With these happy thoughts in mind, Rocket left the assassin's room and returned to his den of organized chaos, which smelled of engine grease and fertilizer as always.

After spending the better part of the day dismantling and rebuilding his weapons, he wandered into the galley searching for a snack. Instead he found his four losers sitting at the table, waiting for him. They all had an object in front of them, each had a web embellished with various bangles surrounded by a circular hoop.

Quill spoke up first. “On Earth, there are these things called dreamcatchers. The idea is that the bad dreams get caught in the net so the person only has good dreams. I thought we could each make one for you.”

The tree smiled at his best friend. “I am Groot.”

Groot's had a wooden hoop with patches of green moss, and the threads were adorned with little flowers. Another, created by Drax, had a gray hoop and red feathers woven into the intricate web. Peter's was covered in red fabric and had beads on the threads. The one Gamora made was crafted from metal parts, with the net looking more like a grid.

“Do Terran trinkets truly have such power?” Drax asked as his brows furrowed. “It's impossible, dreams are intangible.”

“Not really.” admitted Quill. “It's more of a belief thing or superstition, but it can't hurt.”

Rocket made grabby hands at the gifts and tried to hide a toothy grin. “Yeah, gimme your shitty art. It sure ain't worth trying to sell.” It was like each of them would be watching over him, which would be great for people who believed in such sentimental nonsense. Useless as it was, he still appreciated the gesture.

That night, after placing each of the dreamcatchers on his wall, he conjured the images of his altered dreams just before hitting the sack.

It didn't work.

The small cyborg found himself shaking, safe in his bed. Gamora walked in, turning on the light.

Rocket glared down at his sheets. “...I'm weak. How the flark am I supposed to guard the freakin' galaxy if I'm this messed up by somethin' that can't even hurt me?” He didn't mean to be that candid, but he was so tired and shook-up that it just poured out of his mouth.

“You are not weak, Rocket.” Gamora sat on the edge of the bed, face as emotionless as usual. “I believe you are one of the strongest people I know.”

He scowled. “Now I know you're lyin', Drax can lift at least 1000 times more than me.”

“Physical prowess isn't the only kind of strength.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “As a child, before Thanos took me, what helped me stave off bad dreams was sleeping in my parents' bed with them.”

“Good for you.” If he had ever had parents, were they experiments too, or just dumb animals? It was something he didn't like to think about.

“Let me finish,” she demanded. “Perhaps if we shared my bed, your terrors might be less severe, or less frequent.”

“Oh, what the hell, why not. It ain't every day you get to go to bed with the most dangerous woman in the galaxy.” Rocket shrugged his shoulders and hopped out of bed, still holding his gun that was larger than himself.

Gamora frowned. “But first, you need to let go of your gun.”

“It keeps me safe.”

“ _I_ will keep you safe,” she declared with a firm, disapproving look.

Reluctantly, he set the gun down and followed her out.

Once in Gamora's room, the assassin lifted her pillow and brandished a small knife. “If you try anything, you will regret it.”

Rocket threw his hands in the air indignantly. “I have to put my gun away, and you get a knife? That's not fair.”

The pair of cyborgs lay down next to each other on their sides, facing away. “Goodnight Rocket.”

“G'night.”

Rocket slept soundly until movement shook him awake. Gamora was tense, fighting a non-existant enemy. “Gamora, it's okay. I'm here.” Against his better judgment, he hugged her side. The woman froze for a moment, but then her arm gently curled around his furry body as she fell back into peaceful sleep.

* * *

Gamora rose with a yawn. She had fully expected Rocket to interfere with her sleep, but instead she was well-rested. There was something about the body heat he gave off and the softness of his fur that made it easier to let her guard down and give in to slumber. Looking down, the raccoon was curled up and laying on her stomach.

Little arms stretched as Rocket yawned, and he furiously pulled his mussed fur back into position. “I think your bed's softer than mine.”

She knew that wasn't the case, all the beds on the Milano had the same type of mattress. It was his own way of saying they should continue doing this. “I agree.”

He gave her a curt nod and hopped off the bed, running back to his room.

These were their secret rituals. When not on a mission, they would often spend time together, either relaxing with scents (and petting), or Gamora would silently watch Rocket tinker. Each night, they slept in Gamora's bed. They began side-by-side, but always woke inadvertently cuddling or with the raccoon laying on top of her. And every morning, Rocket would sneak back to his own chamber without a word.


	2. More Than Friends, Less Than Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long.

Rocket's nightmares didn't go away entirely, it wasn't the kind of thing someone could just cure like that, but with Gamora they weren't as often and it was easier to come out of them. On the other hand, the bad dreams were getting more creative. They used to typically revolve around either reliving his time on Halfworld or something awful happening to Groot. Making friends just gave the night terrors more ammunition. Rocket was haunted by images of not only being recaptured by the scientists, but all of his friends being captured too, and it was all his fault. But it wasn't real, and dreams couldn't hurt him. Not anymore.

Groot was the first to find out about Rocket and Gamora's sleeping arrangement, on account of sharing a room with Rocket. At least he couldn't tell Quill and Drax. The tree teased Rocket about it occasionally.

The pair of cyborgs were in Gamora's quarters, smelling scents. Rocket sat in Gamora's lap, contented and letting her pet him. At first glance the room would appear as it always had, but a closer look would show evidence of Rocket's extended presence. It was still tidy, but raccoon hair was everywhere. A box full of machine parts wound up on the floor next to the dresser. Among Gamora's trinkets were a handful of gadgets and baubles the small mechanic made for her. On the wall beside the sword collection was the addition of a dreamcatcher, created by Rocket. The hoop was covered in a durable orange fabric, and metal fasteners dotted both the hoop and web. He was determined to make it functional, so it was built with face recognition and lasers to stop anyone who wasn't on the team from intruding into the room.

The smell was a strong one, so they left the door cracked. It swung open as Quill burst into the room.

“Hey Gamora, have you seen my-” The man paused, surprise was written all over his face.

Rocket quickly jumped out of Gamora's lap and onto the bed, his fur bristled and tail stiffened. “Dammit Quill!” This, and the bed-sharing thing, were their secrets. Both of the cyborgs had reputations to uphold

Quill laughed, wearing a goofy grin as usual. “This is what you guys have been up to? I thought you two were doing it.”

Gamora folded her arms as she gave the intruder a calm, yet threatening glare. “And what if we were? How would you react?”

Both Rocket and Quill's mouths hung open for a brief moment, until the procyon composed himself into an accomplished smirk. He was speechless, and couldn't believe that she was entertaining the idea even jokingly.

Rocket didn't know how long it took after they started sharing a bed, but he found himself having certain unwanted feelings. They should have known it would happen in this situation, it was only natural. What he felt was more than friendship, an infatuation for a woman that would never reciprocate.

Of course Rocket found Gamora attractive from the get-go, he figured he'd have to be blind not to, but he didn't want her to know that. Everyone knew what happened every time Quill made a pass at her. But between the threats and exasperation, she often flirted back with the Terran. Rocket thought that it would only be a matter of time before Gamora and Star-Dork hooked up.

But her being hot wasn't what drew Rocket to her. Once they got to know each other, it was her personality. She was also forcibly turned into a cyborg, so she understood Rocket on a fundamental level that even Groot couldn't truly relate to.

“I would be a little weirded out, but then I'd get over it and want both of you to be happy. I've been with weirder.” The Terran said in an honest tone.

“Good answer.” She replied firmly.

“Wait, are you hooking up or not?” Quill asked, looking confused.

“We are not,” Gamora declared.

“Yet.” Rocket teased, sticking out his tongue. It was all show.

Quill sighed and left the room as Gamora rolled her eyes.

The smaller cyborg turned his attention back to the woman. “What was that all about? Don't you and him have a thing?”

She shook her head. “There is nothing between Peter and I, I just enjoy making him think he has a chance. And that was not an invitation.”

* * *

Despite Gamora's warnings, he saw a chance and he needed to take it. He assumed she would turn him down, and even if she accepted it would be as friends. Maybe that would be enough.

Rocket was showing Gamora something on a tablet when the Milano landed for a simple cargo drop.

“I've been here before,” he said. “It ain't half bad. Maybe we could go out on the town later.”

“So, a date?” She raised an eyebrow.

“S'not a date. Just thought we could celebrate our arrangement working out so far, spending time together as friends, teammates.” Bedmates, Rocket added in his mind unhelpfully. “My treat.”

“It must be a date if you're paying.” Gamora eyed him carefully. “Unless you were planning to steal our way.”

“Nah, I'll be good. Don't get used to it. Wear something you can move in.”

“I don't dance,” she stated flatly.

Rocket sneered at the suggestion. “Since when am I Quill? There's a sparring facility where ya can practice fighting in a bunch of scenarios, like low gravity or simulated weather. Thought you'd wanna check it out, get a bite to eat after.”

A hint of a smile formed on her face. “That sounds pleasant.”

* * *

Gamora met Rocket near the ship's airlock. He casually presented a flower to her, absently scratching the back of his head. It had purple petals in the shape of a five-pointed star.

“It is lovely. I will have to thank Groot when we get back.” Before leaving, she put the flower in a vase with some water to keep it healthy.

After a short walk, the pair arrived at their destination. After signing a waiver stating that they would not hold the place accountable for any injury, and equipping themselves with lightweight padded armor, they entered a room and chose an environment. Gamora was not one to hold back, even when sparring, but she needed to try. Despite Rocket's implants he was relatively frail. Not that he would appreciate being thought of as such. Guns and the like weren't allowed, so they had to settle for hand-to-hand and padded swords. They fought each other through several settings, and were thoroughly exhausted. Gamora was unquestionably the stronger of the two and had size on her side, but Rocket's unconventional tactics caught her off-guard more than a few times.

The streets were bathed in the teal light of the planet's atmosphere, the sky reflected against the tall chrome buildings. As they walked, Gamora noticed that the raccoon was winded, and poorly hiding a limp. She allowed herself to appear visibly worried. “I hurt you.”

“I'm fine.” The raccoon shrugged it off and continued walking.

A blue-skinned man, probably Kree, stood in their path. “My, my. You are exceedingly attractive for one who is not Kree.”

Rocket's ears pulled back in anger, shooting daggers at the man with his eyes. “She ain't interested you sleazy krutacker.”

Gamora's face expressed mild displeasure at the unwanted advance. The anger of her companion was no real surprise, but she had not expected him to get this enraged about it.

“Your pet has quite the mouth,” the man said, smirking.

The raccoon reached for the gun on his back and bared his fangs. “Why you-”

“Rocket, don't,” Gamora interrupted, and placed her hand in front of her companion. She turned to him. “He's not worth it.” He gave her an upset, uneasy look, but he let go of the gun.

“Hmph!” The Kree scowled. “I'm worth more than you lot are.”

“Unlikely,” Gamora said as she delivered a swift kick to the man's groin. He dropped to the ground, holding himself. The unlikely pair continued onward, ignoring the man's cries.

They reached the restaurant Rocket suggested, and were quickly seated. She was expecting a trashy bar, and was pleasantly surprised. It was not fancy by any means, but this place had a clean and respectable appearance.

Gamora looked at her date sternly. “Rocket, I appreciate what you did back there, but I do not want you fighting my battles for me. You know I need no one to defend me.”

“Think of it as me havin' your back like I know you got mine,” he replied.

The meal was delicious, and continued as normal until Rocket started drinking.

After his second drink, Rocket stood on his chair and pointed an accusatory finger at Gamora, his eyes dark. “You knew it was a date, and you came anyway. Why? Pity? To make Quill jealous?”

The assassin bit her lip. It was a fair question. Why indeed? Gamora told herself this wasn't about romance, but she couldn't deny that she had recently become far more attached to Rocket than she would care to admit.

She glared with disappointment. “I came because I enjoy your company. Don't do this.”

He sat back down and slumped into the seat, hunched over the table. “Look at us. Your ass could stop a starship, and I...I'm a-a beast, a monster. What the flark was I thinkin', a girl like you an' a thing like me.”

“Come on, we're leaving,” she commanded. Gamora lifted her companion up and placed him over her shoulder.

“Hey, leggo! Put me down!” Rocket squirmed, but was drunk enough to not be coordinated.

She ignored him as she payed and exited the establishment.

“This date was most enjoyable until you started drinking. Let me tell you something. You are no monster. I should know, I was raised by one.”

Upon entering the Milano, Gamora went to her room. She lay on the bed and placed Rocket on her stomach. His snout rested between her breasts as she gently stroked the fur on his head.

“What the scientists did to you, what Thanos did to me, those things do not have to define us. We can be more than that,” Gamora said softly.

“Didya mean everythin' you said back there?”

She gave him a faint smile. “Every word.”

The raccoon lifted himself up and moved his face near hers. “Gammy, I- this is sudden but-” He leaned in as if intending to kiss her, but he hesitated, likely fearing her wrath for attempting such an action.

Gamora put a finger up to his mouth. “Rocket, I know you will take this the wrong way, so listen carefully. For most of my life, love was considered a weakness. Now I know that is wrong. Love is charming, naive, a luxury. One I cannot afford.” Her smile became a sad one.

He nodded sadly, got off of her, and proceeded to hop off of the bed.

“I didn't say you needed to leave.”

“Ya didn't have to.” The heartbreak could be heard in his voice.

Gamora had no idea he had fallen for her this hard. She got off the bed and pulled Rocket into a tight hug. “I am not letting you mope.”

“If being in love is expensive, why don't you steal it?” He asked.

“What?” The expression baffled her.

“You said you can't afford bein' in love. I'll even foot the bill most-well _some_ of the time. You deserve ta be happy, we all do, no matter the cost.”

A smile crossed Gamora's face as she ruffled his fur playfully. “Perhaps you are correct.” She kissed Rocket on the cheek.

* * *

The following morning, Rocket was somewhere between blissful and hungover, even less sure of where Gamora and he stood with each other. They smiled at each other upon waking, and went to the galley together to get breakfast.

Drax was cooking as usual, the others were already at the table. The tattooed mountain put the food from the pan onto plates and sat them down, taking his seat as well.

Quill wore a devious grin. “Rocket and Gamora, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

“Groot, why do you let them sit on you for this?” Drax asked.

“I am Groot,” the tree stated flatly, his face unamused.

“But this is splendid!” Drax continued. “There shall be much rejoicing. When will the nuptials commence?”

Rocket nearly spat out his drink. “WHAT.”

“Getting cold feet?” Gamora grinned in a terrifying way.

“You should put on your slippers.” Drax advised.

“My feet ain't cold!” Rocket yelled. “It's a saying where you wanted to do somethin' but you aren't sure you wanna do it anymore. I just don't get how we went from a first date to talking right to marriage.”

“Among my people, lovers are kept secret prior to marriage,” Drax explained. “Only close friends have the privilege of such knowledge. So a date, an outing where the lovers are seen in public, is a grand romantic gesture tantamount to proposal. Is this not how you do things? I know friend Quill does things differently, but he is a philanderer.”

“Uh, no.” Quill clarified. “Usually going on a date is the first thing most people do in a relationship, to see if they even fit together as a couple. And if they do they'll go on many more dates. I just like to skip to the good part. And avoid the relationship part altogether.”

“I see my blunder,” admitted the Destroyer.

“Hey Gammy, ya wanna make Quill really uncomfortable?” Rocket asked with a toothy gin.

She glanced around the room. “I'm listening.”

Rocket climbed onto her lap and kissed her. His snout made it awkward, but they quickly found a comfortable angle and she leaned into him.

“I am Groot!” cheered the tree.

Peter sighed. “Get a room!”


End file.
